XI CHUAN ~

Louvre Messages

The palace is always haunted.

The pond does not lack reflections.

   *  *  *

The sea never reflects the sky quietly.

Empty mountains are indifferent to the presence of life and death.

*  *  *

This "moment" refuses to understand time greater than a moment.

Ordinary flowers of the moment form a collective.

*  *  *

Angels without a collective greet each other across generations.

Their remnants stars of a single era.

*  *  *

Don't try so hard, idiot:

The goddess of victory is the goddess of victory even without her                   head.

Putting her arms back on wouldn't make Venus any sweeter.

*  *  *

The gods stare at statues of gods to recognize themselves.

No matter how strong the sunlight is, it needs the help of  lightbulbs.

*  * *

But staring at anything too long

is an intrusion on its past and future lives.

*  *  *

Let your thoughts go wild, idiot:

Angels are angels because when they fly

they can see the dust on the heads of "everything."

                                  August 18, 2023

____________________

Translated from the Chinese by Lucas Klein

from At the Louvre

NYRB, 2024

XI CHUAN ~

 

Mourning Problems

an ant dies, and no one mourns

a bird dies, and no one mourns if it isn't a crested ibis

a monkey dies, and monkeys mourn

a monkey dies, and people pry open its skull

a shark dies, and another shark keeps swimming

a tiger dies, and some people mourning are mourning themselves

a person dies, and some people mourn and some people don't

a person dies, and some people mourn and some even applaud

a generation dies, and the next generation doesn't really mourn

a country dies, most of the time just leaving apocrypha

a country that doesn't leave apocrypha wasn't a real country

if it wasn't a real country, when it dies no one mourns

no one mourns, and the wind blows in vain

rivers flow in vain, washing over rocks in vain

glistening in vain, making vain ripples

the river dies, and it's not for man to mourn

the wind dies, and it's not for man to mourn

the river and wind make their way to the sea together, the sea as vast                 

          as Zhuangzi's sea

the vast sea dies, and you will have to die

the dragon king dies, and you will have to die

the moon doesn't mourn, there's no one on the moon

the stars don't mourn, the stars aren't flesh and blood

                                                                                                               November 11, 2014

__________________

Bloom and Other Poems

translated from the Chinese by Lucas Klein

New Directions, 2022

                 

LI SHANGYIN ~

Night Rain, Sent North



You ask when I'll be back but there is no when.

In the hills night rains are flooding autumn pools.

When will we sit and trim the wicks in the west window

and talk about the hills and night and rain?







Frost and Moon



I can hear the migrating geese. There are no cicadas here,

a hundred feet up in the tower from where the water meets the sky.

The Bluegreen Lady and the Pale Fairy don't mind the cold:

that's just the moon and frost bickering over who's prettier.








Parting Thoughts



The dance before the brook. I'm out of breath.

My heart is sore at Midnight's songs.

I've never found Canyon Cloud.

What do you want from ditchwater?

The geese have stopped delivering messages.

The bamboo grove by the Xiang is stained with tears.

I will never see the color of your face

unless I rely on these ripples.





—————————————

Li Shangyin

edited and translated by Chloe Garcia Roberts,
Lucas Klein and AC Graham

(New York Review of Books, 2018)

EARTH ~

XI CHUAN

Somebody



spring stays inside the hat
autumn stays inside the blouse
morning stays on the treetops
evening stays in the shithole


the barren mountain stays on the barren mountain
jadeite water stays in the teapot
the mansion stays on the map
the poor stay in the gutter


three pounds of ink stay in the intestines
fifty grams of sweat stay in the bloodstream
spit stays outside the stone
foul language stays on ivory


red stays on a red face
white stays on a white face
fragrant and sweet stay on lips
salty and spicy stay on chopsticks


scorn stays west of the left ventricle
remorse stays east of the pubis
desire stays in front of the dick
exhaustion stays on the eyelid


sickness stays in the palm of the quack
heartache stays on the shoulders of foxes
life-snatching lightning stays on top of the head
a pair of worn-out shoes stays on the roof


soap stays at the edge of the sky
dogshit stays in the flowers
ghosts stay on the bench
shadows stay beside the wineglass


emptiness stays in the mirror
wind stays on the flame
The Compendium of Classical Prose stays under the menu
the Emperor stays on TV


stammering and sputtering stay in the spittoon
being of two minds stays on the chessboard
chivalry and gallantry stay in the dust
all's well that ends well stays on the pillow






What the Tang Did Not Have



All products of modernity aside, the Tang didn't have, well, let's count:
in the Tang there wasn't this, in the Tang there wasn't that, uh, in the
Tang there weren't any Thinkers! In the Tang there were emperors
and beautiful ladies and palaces and armies and officials, there were
astrologers and the moon and the clouds and poets and minstrels and
dancers, there were drunkards and hookers and revolts and stray dogs
and wilderness and ice storms, there were the poor and the illiterate
and national exams and nepotism. . . but in the Tang there were no
Thinkers. How could that be? With no Thinkers, there could be jade
and gold splendors: without Thinkers, everyone was worry-free, espe-
cially the Emperor. Free to play. In the Tang they played up the great
Tang, poets played up their great poems (only after the middle of the
dynasty did poets start to furrow their brows). In the Tang there were so
many poets, it was as if before the Tang there hadn't been any! Not that
in the Tang they thought that poets could take the place of Thinkers,
only there really weren't any Thinkers in the Tang. For anyone now
who dreams of taking us back, let me just warm you: prepare your
thoughts — either give us a second Tang dynasty without any Thinkers,
or give us something that isn't the Tang.



___________________





XI CHUAN
translated by Lucas Klein
from Notes on the Mosquito
selected poems
(New Directions 2012)